Trains
by Thalia Marie Grace
Summary: She was the only person on that train who had an empty seat beside her, so he sat. AU/AH.
1. one

**Author's Note: Hello! How are you all? Doing well, I hope. O-kay, I totally just had a one-sided conversation with myself...awkward...**

**Anyways! I got this idea about a while ago, actually. We were reading this book in English class called **_**Hiroshima **_**by John Hersey about two or three weeks ago, and the whole war idea got to me. So I decided to write this. I hope you like it, a lot. **

**So...without further ado (that's such a weird saying but I guess I like it because I use it a lot, lol), here is _Trains._**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything you recognise in this story.**

**(also lol I wrote this right after spring break so it's been sitting in my documents for over a month and it would have been posted earlier but then I wrote New Life so um yeah here you go hope you love it)**

**Summary: She was the only person on that train who had an empty seat beside her, so he sat.**

* * *

**Chapter One**

Clary Fray clutched her small carryon bag with her frail hand that was shaking too much for her liking. She was waiting in the hot, sticky, and humid June air at Union Station in Los Angeles, California. She hated the weather in Los Angeles. She was beyond glad that she was finally getting the hell out of that state.

The train was a minute late, which Clary wouldn't have normally minded. Due to the war, they were putting a lot of America's money toward the troops and their weapons. Trains were being constantly stopped and checked for explosives or other unauthorized weapons. World War II was taking a huge toll on America ever since the Japanese had attacked Pearl Harbour almost three years ago.

But today was not a day that Clary could risk being late on. It was the worst day to be late, actually. Her hand trembled even more at the thought.

Finally, she could hear the passenger train's horn. The few amount of people at Union Station hoping to head to New York City like Clary perked up, grabbing their bags. Clary lifted her chin and stood straight as the train pulled to a stop in the station.

She got her ticket checked and climbed aboard. Although she was the last one on the train, there were two train seats left empty right next to each other. Clary moved to the seat at the window and set her bag down between her legs on the floor, staring out the train window, waiting for it to leave. The sooner she was out of Los Angeles, the better.

As she fell asleep, her small hand was still curled around the straps of her bag.

* * *

Jace Lightwood ran to the train station, out of breath. The backpack on his back bounced up and down as he hurried.

He _couldn't _miss this train. He would lose everything if he missed this train. So he ran faster.

The train was about to shut its doors when the conductor spotted Jace. He immediately ceased the train's motion and reopened the compartment doors.

"You made it just in time, young man." the man waiting at the compartment doors checked Jace's ticket. "There's one seat next to a pretty redhead girl. Have a nice trip."

"Thanks, sir." Jace nodded at the man and headed into the compartment, holding his backpack tightly. As Jace moved he saw the train man was right—there was a small redheaded girl, her forehead pressed up against the window glass, eyes closed. She was fast asleep. She was the only person on that train who had an empty seat beside her, so he sat.

He must have made noise, because the small redheaded girl stirred lightly. Jace hesitated. But she didn't wake up. Instead, she moved in her sleep and her temple pressed lightly against his shoulder.

For some reason, Jace didn't really care. She was pretty, to be honest—and she looked so calm when she slept. And of course he should be nerved that a complete stranger was pressed up against his side, but he wasn't.

To be honest, Jace was pretty tired himself. So he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, leaning his head to the right, resting his cheek against the top of her small, delicate head.

And for the first time in a while, a ghost of a smile was on his mouth.

* * *

**Author's Note: That was chapter one! What did you think? It's pretty short, like most of the chapters are, but...I hope it's good and that you like it very, very much. Please, please review! It would mean a lot!**


	2. two

**Author's Note: um literally what we got so many favourites and follows and reviews what the heck i love you all so much uM**

**This is chapter two! It's short, as well—even shorter than chapter one, but we find out why the two of them are going to New York. If you haven't already guessed, lol.**

**And I was _supposed _to update yesterday, but I didn't have my laptop at all and I didn't have the document already on my doc manager. :-( sorry, but here's the chapter now!**

**Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing but my ideas.**

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**Chapter Two**

Clary was confused when she blinked herself awake. For one, the glass she fell asleep on was on her right side; she was leaning on something that was on her left. Another thing—the thing on her left was warm, and it was rising and falling. And hair was tickling her forehead—hair that wasn't hers.

She sat up slowly, turning to her left to clear her confusion—and she saw an angel.

Okay, so he wasn't _really _an angel, but he sure looked like it. His skin was tan (as was everyone's in California, save for Clary, because for some reason she burned and never tanned), and his hair was a golden colour.

But he stirred lightly, a yawn escaping her mouth. His teeth, too, were straight and a bright-white. And when he opened his eyes, Clary noticed they were akin to the colour of liquid gold.

And then he spoke.

"I see you staring, you know."

Clary immediately felt her face heat up. "S-sorry." she said quietly, examining her small hands in her lap. "For staring. And for falling asleep on you."

"Likewise." said her companion. When Clary dared to glance at him, one half of his mouth was turned up in a lopsided smile. "I fell asleep on you too."

"I fell asleep first." she argued.

He was smiling widely at this point before sticking out his hand. "My name is Jace." he said, his tawny eyes gleaming. "Jace Lightwood."

Clary took his hand and tried not to notice how much bigger it was than hers. Softer and warmer, too. Was everything about him perfect? Angelic? "Clary Fray. Are you from Los Angeles, too?"

"Yeah. I was born in San Francisco, though."

"I've lived in Los Angeles my whole life." Clary admitted, her cheeks still a bright pink.

Jace raised his eyebrows. "Really? Then what are you doing taking a train all the way to the Big Apple?"

"Visiting family." It wasn't a _complete _lie. Just...partial. "What about you, Jace Lightwood?"

His smile widened when she said his full name. "I just want a change of scenery."

"Fair enough," said Clary. She knew the feeling. Her stomach clenched at the thought of her small home in Los Angeles. She wondered what her father was thinking now—waking up from his drunken stupor to find his only daughter has run away from home.

Her face must have displayed her emotions, because Jace frowned at her. "Are you okay?" his voice was gentle.

"I'm fine." Clary lied. There she was again—lying to everyone. But Jace Wayland was a stranger to Clary. A stranger she would only know for a week until they got off the train. "I'm just thinking about home."

"Did your parents make you go?"

The thought almost made Clary laugh bitterly. "No, they didn't make me. But my dad is the reason I'm leaving."

"You don't have to tell me."

"I know I don't."

Jace didn't say anything after that, and neither did Clary. They sat in silence.

"But if you're going to be my companion until we get to New York City, I might as well tell you about myself. If that's okay." Clary added quickly. "I've been told I talked too much."

"I hate silence." Jace admitted. "So talking is a good thing."

Clary smiled.

"So, Clary Fray, tell me about yourself. Why you're running to New York. What's your big story?" Jace mimed the tone of a news reporter, and this time Clary actually laughed out loud.

"Well, uh, it started when I was five." Clary bit her lip. "So thirteen years ago."

"You're eighteen?" he looked shocked.

"Yeah." Clary flushed. "Just last week, actually. What about you? How old are you?"

"Twenty-two." Jace looked her over once, but not in a violating way. It made Clary blush even deeper as his tawny eyes raked over her. "You just looked my age, that's all. Anyway," he added, before she could reply, "tell me your story, please. I'd love to hear it."

She took a deep breath. "Okay. Like I said, it started when I was five..."

* * *

**Author's Note: Whoops, turns out that chapter two was longer than chapter one unlike what I'd thought, lol.**

**Please review! We get to learn more about Clary and Jace's stories in the next chapter. X**


	3. three

**Author's Note: WOWOWOWOW, I'm blown away at how much feedback I've gotten from just the first two chapters. It means a lot to me.**

**Disclaimer: None of this is mine, unfortunately.**

* * *

**Chapter Three**

"When I was five, my father got into alcohol." Clary's eyes were downcast, looking at her hands in her lap. "At first, he wasn't really into it, but then by the time I was six I rarely saw him sober. And by the time I was six and a half, he would...he would beat my mother and I up. Actually, the last time he abused us was three days before today."

Jace's eyes were fixed on her shoulder, where a small patch of purple-blue was visible. "Is that..."

"It's a bruise, yeah." Clary bit her lip. "Hurts like hell."

He looked away and cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I'd, uh, imagine."

Clary looked back out the window, wringing her hands.

"It's a good thing you left, you know." Jace spoke, his voice quiet. "No guy treating his family like that should deserve one."

"Thanks." she bit her lip. "I haven't told anyone about that, you know. You're the first person to know."

"You didn't tell your friends?"

"It's not exactly something I'm able to casually bring up in conversation."

"Fair point."

He caught her eye and said, "So."

"So." Clary echoed.

"You told me your story." Jace stated, shifting in his seat to face her. "So what do you want to know about me?"

Clary opened her mouth to speak, but then she shut it. Something in Jace's hand caught her eye—it was a photograph with five people; three kids and two adults. In the corner of the photograph was the year it must have been taken—1928. "That photo," said Clary, and Jace's hand shifted to reveal more of the photograph. "Who's in it?"

"That's my family." Jace told Clary, smiling lightly. "Well, that was us when I was five."

"Is that you?" she pointed to the boy on the far right.

"No, that's my brother Alec." he shook his head. "He's two years older than I am, so in this picture he's seven. And she"—he pointed to the girl between himself and his brother—"is my sister, Isabelle. She's two years younger; three years old in this photo."

"And are they your parents?" Clary inquired, nodding to the young woman and man standing behind them.

"Maryse and Robert, yeah." Jace confirmed. "Both twenty-nine in this photo."

"What are they like?"

"Well, Mom and Dad are just like any normal parents." he shrugged.

Clary raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't necessarily know about that."

"Good point." Jace cleared his throat. "Well, they're really cool. Mom cooks, Dad works...and they both paid a lot of attention to all four of us."

"Four?" Clary frowned at the photo. "There are only three of you in here."

"Oh, right." he reached down into his bag and pulled out a less-older looking photograph, now with four children and dated with the year 1940. "Isabelle's fifteen in this one, and Alec is nineteen, and I'm seventeen." Jace grinned a little as he pointed to the youngest. "That's Max. He's seven in this picture."

"He's your brother?"

"Yeah." Jace grinned wider. "Max likes to draw. He never pays attention when he's in school and he gets in trouble all the time, but Mom and Dad never worry. Somehow, that kid manages to keep his grades up."

"So he's twelve now?" Clary found herself smiling too.

"Yeah. He's going into seventh grade in the fall." Jace nodded.

"So one sister and two brothers," concluded Clary. "That must be chaos at home. Especially during the war."

"Oh, it was." Jace laughed, running a hand through his blond hair.

"Tell me about it." she suggested.

So he did. Jace and Clary spent the next few hours in their seats, while Clary listened to Jace talk about his brothers and sister. The sun was setting on the horizon over the mountains when Jace finally stopped, with a sheepish look on his face.

"Don't even try to apologise." Clary insisted before he could say anything. "I liked hearing you talk about your family. They seem like nice people."

"Well, they really are." Jace smiled a little. "Thanks for letting me talk."

"Thanks for letting me listen." Clary returned a smile. "But we should probably get some rest."

"Sounds good to me." Jace agreed. "Goodnight, Clary."

She grinned at him. "Goodnight, Jace."

* * *

**that ends day one of their train ride and they're bonding aw otp otp otp**


	4. four

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Mortal Instruments or anything from the WWII era, though I really wish I did.**

* * *

**Chapter Four**

When Clary woke up the next morning, the sun was rising, but she was unfortunately wide awake.

Jace was still asleep, arms crossed over his chest, fitting comfortably in his train chair. Careful not to wake up, Clary reached into her bag and pulled out the one thing that kept her sane since she was five—her sketchpad.

She noticed that Jace was still grasping a photograph—but this time, it was the photo with his youngest brother Max. The young boy had a kind, carefree face—the face of a child.

It ended up being the face she sketched until the boy beside her woke up.

"You draw?" Jace's voice is thick with sleep and surprised.

Clary smiled lightly. "Yeah. I do."

"You drew Max."

"Yeah. I did."

Jace bit his lip. "Would you mind if I asked for that? The drawing of Max?"

"No, I wouldn't." Clary admitted. She put the pencil between her teeth and gently tore the paper out of the sketchbook before handing it to Jace. "Here, Jace."

Jace's eyes were locked on the drawing of his younger brother. "Thank you, Clary. It means a lot."

"Don't mention it." Clary reassured him.

He smiled again before folding the photograph and placing it in his bag. "Do you want to grab breakfast? I'm getting pretty hungry."

"Sure." Clary stood up from her seat, only to find that Jace was smirking at her. "What?" her tone was demanding as she placed her hands on her hips.

"You're short," was all Jace said, before laughing to himself and leading her to the breakfast car.

"And you're tall." Clary returned, following him. She tried not to notice how she had to take twice as many steps as he did to keep up with him.

"I'm _normal-sized_," corrected Jace.

Clary rolled her eyes. "I know I'm short. You don't have to rub it in."

"I'm not rubbing it in. I'm just observing."

"Yeah, yeah," grumbled Clary, sitting down next to him in a booth. Across from them was an middle-aged woman, her blue eyes bright and her blonde hair thin. She was watching them with a kind smile on her face.

"Good morning." Jace said softly to the old woman, smiling lightly.

"Hi," said the woman. Her smile widened. "Are you two a couple?"

Clary's face flushed as she stammered out a no, glancing at Jace awkwardly. He, too, was embarrassed, his mouth opening and closing like a fish's.

"I'll take that as a no, then." the woman laughed lightly.

"So, um..." Clary cleared her throat lightly. "What are you on this train for?"

"Oh, that's easy." the woman's smile faded lightly, but it was still on her mouth as she continued: "When I was eighteen, I was in New York for about a week on vacation. While I was there, I met a boy and I fell in love with him."

"In a week?" Clary's eyes widened.

"In _less _than a week," corrected the woman. "I was going to stay, so we could be together, but...he had to go to war. It was when the States decided to join the first World War."

"How old was he?" Jace inquired. His voice was a little off. "The soldier you fell in love with."

"Twenty-two." she answered.

"Oh," said Jace. Then he didn't speak again.

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**Ugh wowowowowow I'm so bad at updating and making chapters long I'm sososososo sorry all I love all of you though please don't hate me ily **


	5. five

**Author's Note: I'm getting a lot of reviews saying that my chapters are too short. They aren't. I have this whole story written out already and it's too much of a hassle to combine chapters. If you're not happy with how much (or how little) I write in a chapter, I can't help you.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Mortal Instruments.**

* * *

**Chapter Five**

After dinner, Clary resumed sketching a scenery photograph of the mountains outside of her train window. There were five days left to their week-long trip from California to New York, and the closer to the end they got, the more Clary didn't want to leave Jace. She still wasn't entirely sure why he was coming to New York, however, and it intrigued her.

"Excuse me."

Clary—and Jace—looked up at the blonde woman standing in front of them. Clary noticed she was wearing a nurse's uniform that was maybe a little too short to be innocent.

"Oh." Jace blinked at the girl. "Hello."

"My name's Kaelie," said the girl, extending her hand for Jace to shake. She didn't give her hand to Clary. "I'm going to New York to help the wounded from the war. What are you going for?"

"Just wanting a change of scenery." Jace informed her, glancing at Clary with the tawny eyes she really, _really _liked.

"That's nice." Kaelie smiled widely at him, twirling a piece of blonde hair around her finger. Clary resumed to her sketching, not wanting anything to do with the blonde nurse talking to Jace. There was a feeling in the pit of Clary's stomach that she didn't recognize and that she also didn't like. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-two." Jace's voice lacked the emotion he used when he spoke with Clary, and it made Clary smile a little bit despite the uncomfortable feeling in her stomach.

"I'm twenty." Kaelie told him. Her smile widened, which seemed impossible to Clary, seeing as the blonde was already grinning so wide she looked like she was stretching her mouth. "So if you're not a soldier, maybe we could meet up in New York."

"It's a kind offer." Jace glanced at Clary. "But I've got a girlfriend."

At this, Clary's head snapped up and her hand froze where it was on her paper. A girlfriend? She didn't know that about Jace. Something inside of her deflated a little.

"Oh." Kaelie's weight shifted and her grin faltered.

"Yeah." Jace lifted one shoulder lightly and then said, "Clary."

"Clary?" Kaelie's expression as puzzled.

Clary was frozen once again.

"Clary." Jace repeated, looking over at the redhead beside him and putting his arm around her shoulders. "Clary's my girlfriend."

"She looks like she's about to puke at the thought of you," remarked Kaelie sourly, nodding her head at Clary.

"I am _not_," said Clary hotly.

Jace smirked lightly.

"Fine." Kaelie crossed her arms over her chest, her expression still sour. She was glaring at Clary. "If you're so _in love _then, why don't you two kiss? I'm sure you wouldn't mind if you two are dating."

"No." Jace replied smoothly. "Of course we wouldn't."

His lips were on Clary's before Clary could even blink.

* * *

**That's chapter five. Yeah, it's short, but I'll try to update as soon as I can. Thank you all so much for reviewing and favouriting and following. X**


	6. six

**Author's Note: We're (hopefully) back to normal updates.**

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own anything.**

* * *

**Chapter Six**

Kaelie had stomped off at least a minute ago, but Jace was still kissing the small redhead beside him.

He had thought she was gorgeous from the start; she'd looked very innocent when she was first sleeping as the train began moving, and she had been very kind when Jace first spoke to her. She was a wonderful girl with a troubled past that she didn't deserve, and Jace would remember her for the rest of his life.

Clary pulled away first, but she was breathing heavily; she, just like Jace, had run out of breath. Her bright green eyes were even brighter with excitement and her curly hair was a little messed up. Beautiful.

"Sorry." Jace grinned a little. A grin appeared on Clary's face, but not as wide as Jace's eventually was. "I should have asked. I really, really didn't like her."

"Neither did I." Clary admitted, laughing lightly. She ran her hands through her hair to fix it, eventually tying it back into a red, curly ponytail.

"You know, I'm getting kind of hungry," she added, biting her lip. "Do you want to head to the dinner cart?"

"Sure." Jace stood up, and so did Clary; it almost made Jace laugh at how short she was because it was so cute. "Let's go."

It was about halfway through dinner when Jace remembered the last time they sat in this car together; when the woman they met told them about when she was eighteen. His stomach flipped guiltily when he thought of her story, and of how relatable it was to his own.

Clary was watching the scenery outside the window as she waited for her food. Jace studied her carefully; the sun from outside was shining on her face, illuminating her green eyes. A few loose strands from her ponytail were framing her face beautifully, curling around her cheekbones.

Without a doubt: Clary Fray was the most beautiful girl Jace had ever laid eyes on in his entire life.

* * *

The sun had set about two hours ago, and the time was nearly eleven in the evening on the second day of their trip.

Clary was sketching by the small train light above her. Jace was nodding off, but he watched her as her hand fell over parts of the page and the pencil delicately sketched, shaded, and thickened in lines all over the paper.

He should tell her. He really should just tell her. Jace hesitated. The words were on the tip of his tongue.

And then they were gone.

Jace's moment of courage was gone. He sighed inwardly as he closed his eyes. Maybe sleep would give him a little bravery for the next morning, when he could finally tell Clary the truth about why he was heading to New York.

* * *

**Really sorry for the short chapter, but I think that's the shortest a chapter will ever be and I'll try my hardest to update tomorrow. School's almost over, so we've got ECAs and finals and more and more tests and piles of homework and uGH I hate high school**

**Also, I'm just reading my whole outline for the story, and I'm realising that you guys are really, really, **_**really **_**going to hate me at the end...**


	7. seven

**Author's Note: Three very interesting factoids: One, I'm too lazy to delete all the emails I get from FanFiction every day, so I have over one-thousand emails in my inbox. Two, I have a whistle register that I just discovered yesterday. And three, WE HAVE OVER ONE-HUNDRED REVIEWS!**

**Disclaimer: You know the drill. I don't own it but I wish I did.**

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

The picture Clary had been drawing the night before was an unfinished photo of Jace Lightwood in a U.S. soldier's uniform.

She had refrained from drawing the face until the morning, when she would be awake and Jace would not be. The blond beside her was snoring softly, his head leaning opposite her drawing. Even if he did wake up, Clary would be able to hastily put the drawing away before Jace would see it.

It was almost finished; it irked Clary that Jace's mouth was a little off in her drawing. She didn't necessarily have a mental imagine of his lips, and she wasn't about to turn his head just so she could sketch it right. Instead, she settled for what she could remember before he'd kissed her in front of the war nurse, and smiled broadly at the memory.

Jace stirred.

Clary quickly set the pencil down and tore the piece of paper out of her sketchbook. She couldn't risk him seeing this one. Before he turned his head, the paper was already folded and stuffed into Clary's travel bag.

"Morning," he mumbled, his voice thick. "How long have you been up?"

"Not very long." Clary smiled at him lightly. "Did you sleep well?"

Jace rubbed his face and nodded, returning the smile behind his head. "Did you?"

"Yeah."

He hesitated a little next, and for a minute Clary was worried that he'd seen the drawing, but then he asked: "What are we?" and she felt relieved and terrified at the same time.

"What do you mean?" Clary bit her lip.

Jace's tawny eyes were puzzled. "I mean...the kiss yesterday," he said slowly, and Clary was embarrassed to feel her cheeks flare at the mention. "Did that mean nothing, and we're just friends? Or...did it mean something, and we're more than just friends?"

"I...I don't know." Clary answered, and she was being truthful: she had no idea what she wanted Jace to be. She didn't even know if she'd see him after the train ride was over. Was it worth being in a five-day relationship? She'd never been in a relationship before.

Jace didn't reply, and this made Clary even more nervous. She bit down and chewed on her bottom lip, reaching for her pencil and sketchpad again.

This time, she drew the woman they met in the dining car the first night; of a younger version of her. She drew the woman, at the age of eighteen, knelt over a gravestone carved with the year of birth and the year of death. The woman's long hair was curly and it was behind her like the wind was blowing it away. She was small, and bony, and with every new stroke of her pencil Clary realised that the woman she was drawing looked like..._herself._

It took Clary five hours to finish the new drawing, and by the time she was finished with it her eyelids were drooping.

"D'you want to take a nap?" Jace asked her quietly, concern in his voice. "You look like you're about to drop dead on the spot."

"I feel like it." Clary admitted, shutting her sketchbook and setting it down. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine," he reassured her. "I'll go grab lunch and be back. Take a nap."

Clary watched the blond leave his seat and enter the dining car through half-shut eyes before the exhaustion took over and she was asleep.

* * *

Clary was finishing her drawing of the young woman.

This puzzled her; hadn't she finished it before she started napping? She'd been finishing it for at least another hour, so why wasn't Jace back? Questions were swimming through Clary's brain as she continued to sketch, moving her hand faster and faster across the paper.

And as she looked at the now-finished product, she realised something that made her stomach plunge.

The woman was now Clary, and the name on the tombstone read Jace Lightwood.

* * *

**There are reasons why I end these chapters so shortly, and this is one of them even though you all probably hate me sososososososo much**

**(((((((clary's dream may or may not be foreshadowing it depends on whether or not i know what foreshadowing means)))))))**


	8. eight

**Author's Note: aklshfklashfkjashflkashfkjhskdfjkasdhfas ok**

**Disclaimer: I don't own TMI.**

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

When Clary and Jace go to the dining cart for dinner, they weren't alone in their booth.

At least, they were alone for about five minutes, and then a young woman with a protruding stomach asked Clary politely if she and her husband could sit down across from them. Clary had accepted without hesitation, and seconds later a man sat down next to the woman across from them.

"My name is Clary." Clary said to the couple, beaming widely. "And this is Jace." she grinned over at the blond beside her, who returned her wide smile.

"I'm Heather," said the young woman. Her hair was dark brown, and so were her eyes. "And this is my husband, John."

"Nice to meet both of you." John said with a smile, nodding toward Clary and Jace. "If you don't mind me asking, what are you two going to New York for?"

"I wanted a change of scenery." Clary admitted, which was true. "California was...lacking my interest."

Jace glanced at her worriedly before answering, "Same here."

"What are you two going for?" Clary smiled brightly again, this time at Heather.

"Well, John's enlisting in the war." Heather's eyes fell a little bit as she spoke, but the smile was still evident on her face. "I'm staying with my sister in New York until either the war ends or he comes back."

"How far along are you?" Jace inquired gently.

"Five months." John replied, smiling brightly at his wife.

Jace shifted in his place on the booth. "Are you scared?" he asked John, his tawny eyes wide. Clary was momentarily puzzled at his vulnerability. "To go to war? To just leave your family behind in the fifty-fifty chance you'll never see them again?"

John gave a shrug. "I want a world of peace for my unborn baby. If that means giving up my life for it, then that's something I'm willing to do."

"America needs more men like you, John," said Clary decidedly, smiling. "That's a big risk for someone to be willing to take."

"It sure is." Jace agreed quietly. He was wringing his hands.

* * *

At the end of dinner, Heather and John were reluctant to leave, and Clary didn't want them to either. She liked meeting people and making new friends. And she was hoping she could keep in touch with Heather when they ended up in New York.

Apparently, Heather had the same idea, because she handed Clary a small slip of paper with a series of numbers. "That's the number at my sister's," she told Clary with a smile. "Just give it a ring and maybe we could see each other again in New York. It was nice to meet you."

"You too, Heather." Clary gave the young woman a hug.

John clapped Jace on the shoulder. "See you on the battlefield," he said, and then took Heather's hand and they exited the dining car.

Jace's face was pale and he was wiping his hands on his pants. "What does he mean?" Clary frowned at him. "Are you enlisting in the war?"

"No." Jace gave her a small smile, but it looked almost forced. "He must be mistaken."

"Oh." Clary smiled back at Jace. "Well, that's good, I guess. Once we get to New York, I'd still like to see you."

"I'd like to see you, too," Jace admitted, reaching out and lacing his fingers through hers. "I really would."

"Come on." Clary was sure she was blushing madly. "Let's get back to our seats."

"Okay." Jace agreed. "They'll need our booth for more people to eat anyway."

Clary nodded, and as soon as they left the car, Jace's smile dropped, and he left looking like the world was falling down around him.

* * *

**hehehehehehehehehehehehehehheheheheheheheh ily all don't forget that by the end of the story**

**Jonathan is introduced next chapter yay **


	9. nine

**Author's Note: i have no idea when the next update will be sooooo this chapter is a good one but not the one we're all expecting lol :-)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Mortal Instruments but maybe I would if someone (MOM) bought them for me for Christmas**

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

Jace had been acting weird ever since he and Clary met Heather and John in the dining car.

It confused Clary even more, to be honest; if he wasn't going to war, why was he acting so weird about it? But she didn't want to ask, because she'd only met this guy two days ago and even though they'd already been through a lot together, she didn't want to push anything out of him. She wasn't like that.

So instead, she pulled out her sketchbook and started to draw. She started with the legs and torso of the man, and then continued to his shoulders and head.

"You draw too much," remarked Jace from his chair. "And you also talk too little."

"I thought annoying talkative girls were a bad thing." Clary stated dryly, not looking up from her sketch as she smirked.

"I like listening to you talk." Jace admitted, shifting so he was facing her. "I thought you were the talkative type when I first met you. That's not a bad thing."

"Drawing keeps my mind off things." Clary admitted, looking up from her paper to see his golden eyes watching her every move as she sketched. "Things like my past. Drawing is refreshing."

"Who's the guy?" Jace nodded at the photo, glancing up at Clary.

Clary half-smiled and bit her lip as she set her pencil down and lifted the book to let Jace see it better. "That's my brother," she answered. "Jonathan Morgenstern."

Jace blinked. The man in the drawing—Clary's brother—shared the same nose and eye-shape. He was grinning in the sketch. "His last name is different. Why?"

"My last name—Fray—is a variation of my mother's maiden name." Clary answered slowly. She rubbed the back of her neck. "Fairchild. I want nothing to do with my father, including his last name. So the day I turned eighteen I legally changed my last name and decided to pack up and leave."

"If Valentine hurt all of you, why did Jonathan keep Morgenstern as his last name?"

Clary shrugged, and when she answered she sounded wistful. "Jonathan was never hurt by my father. I don't know why."

Jace bit his lip. "Why did your mother stay with him, Clary? Do you know?"

Clary didn't answer. She pulled the sketchbook back into her lap and took her pencil in her hand.

"Clary." Jace said softly, his voice urgent. "Why didn't you take your mother with you if Valentine was hurting her too?"

"You don't need to know every single detail about my family." Clary snapped at him. Her face was red and her eyes were tearing up. "Not when I don't even know the reason you're going to New York City, Jace."

Jace looked taken aback, but he shortly recovered. "Clary—"

But Clary had already stood up and slammed her sketchbook shut with the pencil between the pages; she pushed past him, kicking her own bag in the process, and stormed down the compartment hallway.

He sighed heavily and looked down. Just out of Clary's bag was a folded-up drawing—and from what Jace could see, the drawing was of a man who had Jace's nose. Curious, he picked it up and unfolded it.

His stomach sank. It was him, all right, and it was a portrait of Jace in a soldier's uniform—like the photo he would shortly get after arriving in New York City.

It was time to tell Clary. Jace already knew more about her then she knew about him, and she had been honest about her troubled past, so Jace should be honest about his.

He stood up, holding the sketch in his hand, and left the train compartment in hopes of finding Clary.

* * *

**So next chapter is a gooooood one. We find out why Clary didn't bring her mother along and Jace tells Clary his whole real story yayayayayay**


	10. ten

**Author's Note: hooray for me updating bc wow but it's really short so**

**Also this story is nearing a close aw I'm sorry lol **

**Disclaimer: I don't own TMI.**

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

Clary tried to finish sketching her brother, but all she could see were memories of fists and bruises and blood and her mother's dead body lying on the floor.

She shouldn't have snapped at Jace, she knew that; but her mother was still a sensitive topic to Clary, as it had only been five days since her mother was killed.

It was that night when Clary had fully decided to leave Valentine in his home by himself. After she'd seen her mother, lying on the floor and not breathing, with her drunk father looming over Jocelyn's corpse, it had scared Clary to see what he was capable of.

"Clary?"

It was Jace. Clary looked up to see him holding a piece of paper in his hand, biting his lip. She gestured for him to sit, and he did.

And he held out the paper.

Clary held her breath. It was her sketch of Jace in a soldier's uniform, slightly crumpled up. When she looked from the paper to Jace, his expression wasn't angry, like she'd expected it to be.

"Jace—" Clary started.

"I'm going to draft in the war." Jace informed her quietly, cutting her off. "That's why I'm going to New York."

Clary bit her lip.

"My older brother Alec fought in World War I," explained Jace. He was wringing his hands again, something that Clary assumed to be a nervous habit. "And so did my dad. Dad, uh, died in the war, and we needed the money the state was giving us for our father's services, so Alec went in Dad's place."

Clary reached for Jace's hand.

"Alec didn't die." Jace exhaled. "He just...he got a bullet that ricocheted off his spine. It paralysed him from the waist down."

"So he can't fight." Clary realised.

Jace shook his head. "But I can. And I want to fight."

"But you don't _have _to," she bit her lip.

Jace shook his head. "No. I don't have to. But I want to. And so I'm going to. I'm sorry for not telling you—"

"It's okay, Jace." Clary squeezed his hand and she gave him a small smile. "I'm proud of you for wanting to do this for your family. Even if you aren't required to. I'm sure it means a lot to them. And to America."

Jace's beam was wide. "Here," he said, sliding the paper toward her with his free hand. "I'm sure you want this back."

Clary shook her head and smiled lightly, sliding it back toward him. "You keep it," she said softly.

"No." Jace shook his head and folded the drawing into her free hand. "You should," reasoned Jace. "Besides, I don't need a drawing of myself to remind me of what I look like."

"Very true." Clary laughed. "But who says I'll need a drawing to remember you?"

"Nobody." Jace grinned at her, and then he leaned over the table and kissed her softly.

* * *

**since tomorrow is Mother's Day here in the US it is unlikely that I will be updating, but if I can get the chapter pretyped today then maybe I will...if not, happy Mother's Day to all you Americans out there!**


	11. eleven

**Author's Note: And we are baaaaack!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Mortal Instruments.**

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

"I never said I was sorry for talking about your mother." Jace mumbled to Clary. The sun was setting on the horizon and most of the passengers around them were falling asleep. At this point, they were nearly in Chicago. "But I am. I shouldn't have brought it up. I didn't know it was a sensitive topic."

"He beat her to death." Clary sighed heavily, her eyes on the horizon. The dark red was the same colour as her mother's hair. "Five days ago."

"You're kidding." Jace inhaled sharply.

"I wish I was." Clary bit her lip. "I came home from a study group and she was dead on the floor and he was looking at her. I think he was crying. I didn't stick around down there long enough to find out."

"And that was when you decided to leave?"

"I'd been thinking about it, but that was the last straw."

"I'm really sorry."

Clary sighed again. "She's in a better place now."

"And are you?"

"I think I am, yes." she bit her lip. "Though I'm still kind of afraid that he'll find me at Jon's."

"I doubt Jonathan would let him do anything to you." Jace breathed reassuringly. "And if Valentine touches you again I'll kill him."

"You'll be in Europe," Clary reminded him.

"I'll come back just to kick his ass."

At this, Clary laughed softly, and Jace kissed her temple and grinned. "It's getting late, so we should probably get to sleep." she mumbled.

"Yeah." Jace agreed, stifling a yawn. "Goodnight, Clary."

"Goodnight, Jace," said Clary with a smile.

* * *

"Hiya, Clary."

Clary looked up to see Heather, the woman who sat next to Clary and Jace the previous night at dinner. She was beaming.

"Heather!" Clary grinned widely at her. "How are you?"

"I'm great." Heather laughed. "And you?"

"I'm great, too," said Clary with a smile. She gestured to the empty booth across from her. "Go ahead; sit down, if you want."

"I was hoping you'd ask." Heather admitted, sitting down across from Clary. "It's getting difficult to stay standing now."

"I'd imagine." Clary grinned. "How long have you and John been married?"

"A year, just about." Heather looked out of the leisure car window and exhaled. "Too soon for him to be going off to war."

"But then again, when would be the time to go off to war?" Clary asked Heather with a sigh. Her mind was on Jace, and the drawing of him in a soldier's uniform.

"I have no idea." Heather sighed too. "I wish war didn't exist."

"Don't we all?"

"I hope so."

Clary bit her lip. "Jace is going to war, too."

"John mentioned that." Heather bit her lip. "Did you know?"

"That he was going to war?" Clary sighed. "No. But I only met him three days ago, so it really shouldn't be a big deal. But it is."

"You seem to really like him." Heather observed. "Are you sure you only met him three days ago?"

"Yeah." Clary said confidently. "Why?"

"No particular reason." she shrugged. "It just...when I saw the two of you together, it seemed like you two knew each other for a long time before. I assumed you were travelling to New York together."

"Oh. No." Clary laughed. "I mean...we grew up in Los Angeles together. We probably went to the same school. But I never knew him before the train, no."

Heather sighed and stood up. "I really should get going. John and I are eating dinner early tonight."

"Alright." Clary smiled at the young woman. "It was nice talking to you."

"You too." Heather smiled broadly before biting her lip. "Just be careful, you know?" she asked hesitantly. "You've only got these few days left with Jace, if he's going off to war. Either he'll die there, come back at the end, or be discharged. And who knows how you'll contact him then."

Clary bit her lip. "You're absolutely right."

"And if you two are meant to be..." Heather sighed. "As Shakespeare once said, 'The course of true love never did run smooth.' Or something like that. I mean, I thought John and I were going to be fine. But he's going off to war and it's all that I can think about."

She turned around and left the room after saying a quick goodbye, leaving Clary with a nervous pit in her stomach that she hadn't noticed before, but was now realising that it had been there the whole time.

* * *

**help i think i have writers block ugh**


	12. twelve

**Author's Note: hello**

**Disclaimer: I don't own TMI boooo**

* * *

**Chapter Twelve**

The train ride ended tomorrow.

Clary remembered this just as she pried her eyes open on Saturday morning, taking in the scenery. They were somewhere in Virginia, maybe; Clary would have to check the signs at the next stop. But the closer Sunday neared, the more nervous Clary got.

"Morning." Jace said softly from beside her.

She turned and gave him a half-smile, while he gave her a kiss on her forehead in return. "How long have you been up?" Clary inquired, reaching down into her bag.

"About an hour or so." he bit his lip. "It's nearly eleven."

"Oh, wow."

"Yeah. You slept for a long time."

Clary rubbed the back of her stiff neck and smiled lightly again. "I guess I did. But now I'm hungry."

"Me too." Jace admitted. "I wanted to wake you up so we could go eat, but you looked really peaceful."

"Good idea." she laughed as she stood up. "I probably would have punched you."

"That, too," agreed Jace, reaching for her hand. He laced his fingers through hers and led her to the dining car, smiling back at her the whole way.

**LINE BREAK**

"Okay." Jace's tone was firm as he spoke decidedly.

"Hmm?" Clary looked up from her sketchbook. After eating breakfast, the two decided to grab a booth in the leisure car and Clary was sketching the scenery outside. Jace's tawny eyes were set.

"Okay." Jace repeated. He reached across the table and took Clary's hand, squeezing it gently. "Tonight we are going to forget everything else and have one night. Just you and me. No future, no past, just right now."

"And what does this entail?" Clary was smiling broadly as she set her pencil inside her sketchbook and shut it.

"We go on a date." Jace took her other hand.

"We're on a moving train." she pointed out.

Jace rolled his eyes at her. "I mean on the train, silly. In here. Or in the dining car."

"How?"

"We can make it work." he insisted. "It's you and me. We can do this." his expression softened lightly. "I just...I want to spend as much time with you as I can. I don't know if I'll ever see you again once we get off this train. A lunch date."

"Okay." Clary bit her lip, smiling lightly at him. It was true: the chance that Jace would never come back from the war or that he and Clary would be pulled apart by anything in their way was still there. "Okay. Yes. A date."

"Great." Jace beamed at her, squeezing her hands. "And you'll have to give me the phone number at your brother's, and the address, so I can write you in the war."

"You'll have to remind me." Clary grabbed her book.

"Where are you going?" he frowned.

She laughed. "Meet me at our seats in ten minutes. A girl's got to get ready for her first date with a guy, doesn't she?"

Jace laughed too, letting go of her hands and watching her leave the leisure car, feeling extremely lucky.

* * *

**ugh and we're back to short chapters i'm sorry lol but i wanted the date in a separate chapter**

**Also, I think I've got another Clace story arriving when this one is over...would y'all want it to be AU? Or not? Let me know in your review.**


	13. thirteen

**Author's Note: I was going to write the date in this chapter, but it will come later in the story. So just hold on.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Mortal Instruments.**

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen**

The train was pulling into the station when Clary woke up on the final day.

She turned to look at Jace, who was already packed. He was looking at her, and silently he took her hand and squeezed it.

"Good morning." he said quietly.

"It's not a good one." Clary replied softly, and Jace's expression was sad as she let go of his hand to pack up her bag once again.

"You're right." Jace sighed heavily. "It definitely isn't."

Clary zipped up her bag and placed it on her lap, biting down on her lip. "This is goodbye, Jace Lightwood."

"It'll never be goodbye." he took her hand once more and laced his fingers through hers. "I'll write you, and when I come back from the war we can be together."

"Can't you stay here? With me? My brother would totally let you stay with us—"

"If I don't go, I'll never forgive myself." Jace interrupted her softly.

Clary took a deep breath. It was hard on him to say no, she could tell; but at the same time, Jace didn't want to throw away his family just like that. He _had _to fight in the war.

"Okay." Clary swallowed. "Okay, fine. But at least _meet _my brother."

There was a ghost of a smile on the boy's mouth. "Deal."

* * *

"Jonathan?" Clary's hand was clammy in Jace's as they wandered around the station. Clary was leading both of them, searching desperately for her brother.

"Clary?" a voice called back. Clary turned around, looking over Jace's shoulder, and her eyes lit up.

"Jon!" she let go of Jace's hand to run to her brother, and Jace followed her quickly. Jonathan Morgenstern had white-blonde hair and green eyes, just like Clary's, and his skin was paler than his younger sister's.

"Hey, kid," said Jonathan fondly, pulling back from hugging his sister. "It's nice to see you. I thought you'd never get here."

"So did I," admitted Clary. She ran her hand through her hair and then turned toward Jace, who was feeling a big nervous himself. "Jonathan, this is Jace Lightwood. I met him on the train."

"I've heard a lot about you," said Jace to Jonathan, shaking his hand. Jonathan looked around Jace's age, but a lot taller. The height kind of made Jace even more nervous.

"I wish I could say the same to you." Jonathan responded, a light grin on his mouth. "You took good care of my sister?"

"Yes, I did." Jace flashed a warm smile at Clary, who blushed. "She's a special one."

"That I can agree with."

Clary looked relieved that her brother and boyfriend were getting along. She let Jace take her hand again and said, "Jace is going to war."

"Really?" Jonathan's eyebrows rose. "You must be a brave man, then. I could never do something like that."

"I can hardly believe I'm doing it myself." Jace admitted, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. His heart was pounding. "But I really do have to get going."

Clary's expression fell as she kissed him one last time. "Come back home." she whispered.

"I will." Jace whispered back. But it was a promise he would have to break.

* * *

"So how's our beloved Dad?" asked Jonathan dryly as he opened the passenger door of his car for Clary.

She waited to answer until Jonathan was inside and starting the car. "He's just as drunk as ever."

"So he hasn't changed."

"Not at all."

Jonathan sighed and reached over, taking his sister's hand. "I'm glad you're here, Clary. I should have taken you with me when I left."

"Then you—we—would have left Mom alone with that monster." Clary said softly.

Jonathan's eyes hardened. "Even with you still there, look what happened to her."

"And are you trying to blame yourself?" Clary put her hand on her brother's arm. "Jon, don't. It's only Valentine's fault and you know that."

"Mom was a great person." Jonathan put the car in drive and started down the road. "You have her personality, you know. And her hair. And her eyes."

"A spitting image." Clary said bitterly.

"Maybe that's why Dad kept you around so long."

"And what would explain why he didn't hurt you, like he did to me and Mom?"

Jonathan only shrugged. "People don't go around explaining everything they do, Clary."

Clary sighed heavily. "I know."

"Come on." her brother gave a smile. "I've got food ready at home."

"You learned how to cook?" Clary fake-gasped.

Jonathan rolled his eyes. "I knew there was something about you I wasn't missing."

It felt good to Clary to laugh.

* * *

**Okay wow that took me forever to update but at least it's a bit longer than usual! **


	14. fourteen

**Author's Note: I'm so sorry for the delay, but I've been massively busy. Please try not to cry, lol. Save the tears until next chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own TMI.**

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen**

It was at breakfast.

There was a knock on the flat door just when Clary was serving herself and her brother pancakes. Clary glanced at the door and took a deep breath, but Jonathan said, "Don't worry, sis, I've got it," with a wink before she could move a muscle.

But something was wrong. Jonathan could feel it as he opened the door, and his throat felt tight as he called, "Clary, it's for you," without even letting their visitor speak.

Clary frowned as she set down the spatula and jogged toward the front door. Jonathan glanced at his sister as he stepped away.

Just once glance at the man's uniform and the telegram in his hand and she crumpled in her brother's arms.

She only heard bits and phrases of what the man said, but it was clear: Jace Lightwood was killed in action. He was gone.

Jonathan took something else from the man's hand and tightened his grip on Clary, who was starting to cry and could barely stand on her own.

He'd been at war for about seven months. He had written Clary _just last week. _Jace was alive just last week.

And now he was gone.

* * *

The next day, Jonathan served Clary breakfast in bed.

"Thanks." Clary mumbled. "I'm sorry—"

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Clary." Jonathan interrupted her, sitting down on the bed next to her. "You loved him, and he died. I understand."

"Our family has the worst luck." she said softly.

"That we do." Jonathan sighed. "A letter came for you today. From an Isabelle Lightwood—do you know who she is?"

Weakly, Clary nodded. "Jace—he mentioned her once. It's his younger sister. Did you read it?"

"His family is hosting a funeral for him this Saturday." Jonathan looked a bit sheepish, but Clary was too sad to care. "Isabelle received a letter from Jace telling her all about you—with your address, and she wants you to be there. Are you okay with going alone? I have work."

"I—yeah." Clary took a deep breath. "Yes, I'm fine with going by myself."

"You can fly there, so maybe leave on Friday? Isabelle enclosed her phone number for us to call." Jonathan smiled lightly at his sister.

"I'll call her later today." Clary reassured him, tying her hair back in a ponytail. "You should head off to work. You don't want to be late."

"You're absolutely right, little sis." Jonathan leaned forward and planted a kiss on his sister's forehead. "Love you. See you later."

"Love you too." Clary mumbled softly, and watched as her brother left their apartment with one last smile over his shoulder at her.

She'd realised, all of a sudden, that Jonathan had never had a girlfriend. Maybe a crush, back in high school, but out of all the years she'd lived with him and heard from him, none of them involved a girl that he loved.

And then Clary decided it was most likely for the best. The course of true love never did run smooth—wasn't that from a Shakespeare play she had to read in class once?—and in her case, it certainly did not. She wasn't planning on falling in love any time soon.

* * *

"Hello?"

"Um, hi." Clary bit her lip, twirling the phone cord around her finger. "I'm calling for Isabelle Lightwood—is she available?"

"Yeah. Just once second." the boy on the other line sounded sad and young; with a jolt, Clary realised it was most likely Jace's younger brother, Max. There was silence on the other end, until the line crackled and a girl's voice answered.

"This is Isabelle." she took sounded sad.

"Isabelle?" Clary's hands were shaking lightly. "It's—um, it's Clary? I don't know if you remember—"

"You're the girl Jace met on the train." Isabelle exhaled. "Oh, good. Did you get my letter?"

"I did, yeah." Clary smiled lightly. "I was just calling to say that I'd be there."

"Good." Isabelle sighed on her line, and then sniffled slightly. "Jace would...he would really like that."

"I'm so sorry, Isabelle," blurted out Clary. She shut her eyes tightly. "If I could take his place—"

"He went into the war knowing he was going to die." Isabelle sounded like she was shaking her head. "I just wish he would have said goodbye first."

Clary blinked. "Wait—what?"

"You had no idea." Jace's sister's voice was small. "You had no _idea? _That he went into the war—"

"He never told me." Clary's hands shook even more. "Actually, he barely even told me he was going to war. But—he never _said goodbye?"_

Isabelle took a deep breath. "When we got the letter along with the telegram, he explained it all. I assumed you got one as well—"

It hit Clary like a ton of bricks. Jonathan had taken a long white envelope from the telegram deliverer. She glanced over at the kitchen table and saw it there, with her name in big letters on the top of it.

"Clary?" Isabelle had stopped talking. "Are you there?"

"Can I call you back later, Isabelle?" Clary chewed on her bottom lip. "I haven't actually read my letter yet."

"Oh!" Isabelle inhaled. "Of course! Yes. Call me back when you can. Goodbye, Clary."

"Goodbye, Isabelle." Clary hung up the phone, and with shaking hands reached for the letter on the table and tore it open.

* * *

**Ooooooops. Looks like I'm still really good at cliffhangers.**

**Next chapter will come within the week. :-)**


	15. fifteen

**Author's Note: Well, that chapter got the most reviews any chapter had ever gotten. I'd planned for Jace to die since the beginning—normally every story I write has a happy ending, but for the first time I didn't really **_**want **_**that. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Mortal Instruments, unfortunately, though I wish I did.**

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen**

_If you're reading this right now, Clary, it most likely means I'm dead._

_That was such a downer. Wow. I'm sorry for starting out this last letter that way, but I just wanted to give you a head start. Though I suspect the telegram man has already informed you._

_When I met you for the first time, you were asleep, but I think you know that. You looked absolutely peaceful—and at ease with the world. If only I'd known you were on the run from your father then, I would have known why you looked so peaceful._

_I know you told me your reasons for leaving California and staying in New York, but I seem to remember that I hadn't told you mine other than that I was going to fight in the war. But I never told you why._

_My dad and older brother both fought in war. My dad died, and my older brother Alec was crippled. When my father died, we got recompense as an apology from the government. But that soon ran out._

_My family is poor. The money I had to buy the train ticket was the only money I had left of my own; I knew that, if I went off to war and died while I was there, my family would get money again. And there would be one less mouth to feed. And they would be safe. They would be able to survive._

_I should have told you. I knew I wasn't coming back. I'd made a choice—a choice to sacrifice myself so my family could have what they needed._

_You nearly changed my opinion, Clary. I was so close to staying with you and forgetting the whole reason why I was going to New York in the first place. I knew I wouldn't come back and I hated to think what your reaction would be once you found out. But I had to do this for my family._

_I'm also sending back the drawing of me inside of here. I want you to remember who I was. I never intentionally hurt you—don't forget that. Every moment I spent with you on that train from California to New York was absolutely, one-hundred percent genuine. I love you._

_I'm not sure if Isabelle will call you when she gets the letter I wrote for her, so I'm giving you my family's phone number and address. I want you to get to know them for me. Max would absolutely adore you—and Izzy would love having a friend as amazing as you are. Though I don't recommend you go back and stay in California. If your father is still there, and he somehow were to find you, I would come back from the dead just to beat his ass _(and at this, through her tears, Clary weakly laughed, because she could just see the determined look on Jace's face as he wrote it). _But Isabelle was looking at colleges in New York. Maybe you can persuade her. She's a lot like you, Clary. You'd love her._

_I don't know if your feelings are the same as mine. I'm only assuming, because that makes me feel better (though how could anything make a man fighting to his death feel better). I've never loved someone as much as I've loved you, and over these past seven months with me here, fighting for America, I've never missed someone as much as I've missed you._

_I know you've lost your mother, and now you've lost me, and I can't tell you how sorry I am for that. But I'm also very happy I got to spent the last week of my life outside of war with a girl as beautiful as you, and I hope someday you meet a guy who will treat you as wonderfully as I would have. You deserve the best in life, Clary. You've been through so much, and from here it can only get better. The best people have the worst luck in life._

_Out of all the places I had imagined meeting the love of my life, I would not have picked a train to be that place. I also wouldn't have picked the love of my life to be a not-so-talkative, artistic, creative, troubled but optimistic, understanding redhead who was running from her own personal battles as I was running to my own. And I wish I could have had more than a week to spend with you, to know you better, but if true love were easy, everyone would have it._

_I love you. Never forget that. _

_Goodbye, Clary Fray._

_All my love,_

_Jace Lightwood_

And that was it.

Clary set down the letter with trembling fingers and sat down in a kitchen chair, running her fingertips over the sketch of the soldier she had met on the train. In her mind, she could hear his laugh, and see his smirk, and feel the weight of his hand in hers as they walked around the train after their first—and last—date.

"Goodbye, Jace Lightwood." she whispered to the parchment, and then she stood up and started to pack for California.

* * *

**That made me tear up; I'm not going to lie. Next chapter will be the funeral. I'll try to make that a longer one.**


	16. sixteen

**Author's Note: Here's the next chapter yaaay.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own TMI.**

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen**

"_And breakfast is served," said Jonathan happily, grinning at his little sister as he set the pancake stack on the table between them. "I put bananas in them, too."_

"_You're the best, Jon." Clary exhaled._

_Jonathan gave her a wide grin. "I know. Have you found a job yet?"_

_Clary bit her lip. "No." _

_His grin faltered. "Clary, you've been here for seven months. I've already paid off the apartment, and I don't mind buying things for you, but you should get on with your life. Jace will be back hopefully any day now—"_

_Her brother was cut off by a sharp knock on the door. Jonathan got up to open the door just as Clary frowned, but before the redhead could start eating, Jonathan's voice called:_

"_Clary, it's for you."_

_It was slightly strangled, and urgent, and Clary stood up from the table to see who was in the doorway._

"_Clary." Jace breathed. He was leaning heavily on a cane, but otherwise was looking healthy._

"_Jace?" Clary's eyes lit up._

"_Hey." his grin was lopsided. "I'm home."_

"_You're home." she repeated. _

"_I hate to do this, Clary," interrupted Jonathan, "but if you don't wake up you're going to miss your flight."_

_Clary paused. "What flight?"_

"_To California." the image of her brother was getting fuzzy, and so was everything else. "Clary, you'll miss Jace's funeral if you don't wake up!"_

"_My funeral?" Jace frowned. "But I'm right—"_

"Clary!"

Clary shot straight up, first taking in her brother's worried expression. "Oh, thank God." Jonathan exhaled, throwing an outfit in his sister's direction. "You were supposed to leave half an hour ago to get to the airport. If you don't leave in the next five minutes, you'll miss your flight."

Clary cursed under her breath and tumbled out of her bed. Her mind was reeling from her dream as she scrambled to put her clothes on. "Why didn't you wake me sooner?"

Jonathan's expression informed her that she had been speaking in her sleep.

"Oh." Clary sighed as she ran a brush through her hair. "Well, uh, I'll be back at the end of the week."

"Have as much fun as possible out there, Clary." Jonathan said quietly, giving his sister a hug. "Love you."

"Love you too." Clary grabbed her suitcase and then she was gone.

* * *

The flight was awful.

Clary had never liked airplanes, though she'd actually never been on one before, but she didn't have the time to take a train and she didn't want to take a train so soon.

Her mind was still reeling. The dream had felt so _real; _Clary wished it had been. She wished she wasn't going back to California for Jace's _funeral_.

But she couldn't change it. And that really sucked.

As she walked off of the airplane and through the terminal, she kept a look out for Isabelle, who was going to be meeting her at the airport.

Someone tugged on her shirt. "Excuse me? Are you Clary?"

It was a boy with round glasses and dark hair; in his hand he was clutching a _Captain America _comic book.

"Uh, yeah." Clary bit her lip. "What's your name?"

"Max!" called a girl's voice. "Oh, thank _God, _Max, don't run off like that—"

The girl pushed through the crowd and stopped, taking in the scene of Max clutching the corner of Clary's shirt. Her hair was long and black, and her eyes were bright. She was—

"Isabelle." Clary spoke.

"Clary?" Isabelle's expression softened. "Oh, good. I wasn't sure—"

"That's why _I _found her, Isabelle." Max's voice was annoyed. He smiled up at Clary. Hi. I'm Max."

"I'm Clary." Clary laughed lightly, shaking his hand as he held it out to her. "It's nice to meet you, Max. I've...I've heard a lot about you."

"Me too." said Max proudly. "Jace sent me a whole letter talking about you."

"Okay, Max." Isabelle intervened, biting her lip. "Clary's probably exhausted from the flight process so let's go back to the house, okay?"

"Okay." Max reached for Clary's bag with a charming smile and headed out of the airport.

"Sorry about him." Isabelle smiled sheepishly at Clary, linking her arm through the redhead's. "He's very talkative."

"I don't mind." Clary admitted. "It's nice to see someone as energetic as he is at...well, at a time like this."

"Yeah." Isabelle sighed. "He cried nonstop for the first day. And then he started to take on the role of being the one to keep us all upbeat and happy."

"Jace told me a lot about him." Clary repeated.

"Yeah." Isabelle smiled lightly. "Jace loved Max a lot."

"Izzy!" Max's voice whined. "Come on! Let's go home!"

Isabelle and Clary shared a look, and then they both laughed as they followed the young boy outside.

* * *

**Oh. Um, I guess that's not the last chapter...I didn't want to make it super long.**

**So next chapter will be Clary meeting Alec and Maryse, and then the funeral.**


	17. seventeen

**Author's Note: CITY OF HEAVENLY FIRE COMES OUT TODAY! My copy's coming on Thursday. **

**ALSO: I have yet to read the Infernal Devices (but I'm hoping to this summer), but I figured you all would like a small TID reference in here.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Mortal Instruments. Or the Infernal Devices.**

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen**

"Here's our house." Max told Clary with a bright smile. "It's not super big, but it fits us better without—"

"Max." Isabelle cut her brother off, her voice tight. Clary could guess the end of the sentence. "Would you mind getting Clary's bag and telling Mom she's here?"

"Okay." Max smiled widely at Clary again and ran into the house.

Isabelle glanced uncomfortably at Clary. "Once again, I'm sorry about him."

"It's no problem, really." Clary reassured her. "It's his way of coping. I understand."

"Well, um, the only room we have left is what used to be Jace's." Isabelle sighed. "If you don't want to be sleeping in there—"

"No." Clary exhaled. "I—um, I'll be fine in there. Thank you."

"Are you sure?" Isabelle bit her lip. "None of us are even comfortable going _in _there yet—"

"Isabelle, I promise I'm fine." Clary smiled lightly. "But thank you for worrying."

Isabelle nodded slightly. "You're welcome. But come on—my mom and brother are waiting."

"Right." Clary followed the dark-haired girl inside the house, where she was immediately met with the smell of chocolate chip cookies.

Jace's sister groaned. "Mom, you didn't."

"You're right, honey," said a middle-aged woman who was sitting on the couch. Clary hadn't noticed her there at first. The woman—who Clary assumed was Maryse—smiled. "Alec did."

Alec. That was another name Clary recognised—Jace's older brother.

"Hello, Clary." Maryse rose from the couch and gave the redhead a smile, before reaching out and hugging her tightly. "It's nice to meet you."

"And you." Clary returned the hug. "I've heard a lot about you."

"I wish I could say the same." Maryse admitted. "Come on—Alec's cookies are cooled by now. He's been dying to meet you."

A second later, she winced at her choice of words, but still led Clary into the kitchen, where a young man was placing cookies on a plate.

"Clary, meet Alec." Maryse said with a smile. "Alec, wheel yourself over here and say hi to Clary."

Alec was indeed paralysed—just like Jace had told Clary on the train. He was in a wheelchair, and was apparently functioning well with it as he steered and wheeled himself over to where Clary was. "Hi." he held his hand out with a smile. "I'm Alec."

"Clary." Clary replied, shaking his hand. "Once again, I've heard a lot about you."

"So have I." Alec smiled brightly.

"Has everyone in this house heard about Clary except for me?" Maryse complained.

"Yes." Isabelle chimed in. "It appears so, Mom."

"Boo." Maryse sighed. "Well, Clary, make yourself at home here for the next few days. We're honoured to have you here."

"Thank you." Clary smiled at the woman. "It means a lot to me."

"Of course." Maryse assured her.

"So I hear you're originally from San Francisco?" Alec asked Clary, wheeling himself back over to the cookies.

"I am." Clary nodded. "Though closer to the Los Angeles-San Francisco city border."

"Ah." Alec smiled lightly. "That would explain why Jace had never met you before. Why the sudden move? If you don't mind me asking," he added hastily.

"Family problems." she bit her lip. If she could admit it to a stranger she'd never met before a train ride, she could admit it to Alec. "My mom had just died and my dad was a bit of a...drunk."

"Judging by your tone, I don't think he was 'a bit'." Alec held the plate out toward her and Clary gratefully took a cookie. "But I'm glad you thought to leave. Jace sounded like he really loved you."

"Really?" Clary could feel her face heat up.

Alec's eyes glinted with mischief. "Oh, yeah. He said a bunch of other stuff too—"

"Don't mess with her, Alec." Isabelle chided from the living room, but she shortly entered the kitchen and snagged the cookie her brother was holding.

"I was not." Alec defended himself.

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "Sure you weren't, Alec."

Clary laughed. The house felt comfortable to her, even though she'd only been in it for a few minutes. And later that night, during dinner, when Alec and Max got into an argument over Captain America, Clary couldn't help but completely understand Jace's reasons for wanting to save this family and keep it all under one roof.

* * *

The funeral was very small—just the Lightwoods, Clary, and a few other relatives and friends.

The other guests at the funeral were a blur—the Penhallows, the Herondales, a man named Magnus, a young girl named Tessa, and a young man named James. Clary didn't know much of them, but they were all nice. Magnus had spoken to Alec nearly the whole time and Isabelle watched her brother fondly.

Jace's body wasn't inside the coffin, but instead Maryse wanted to put his favourite things inside. One token from each of his family members—to be buried as a memorial. Isabelle hadn't warned Clary of this over the phone, but Clary, thankfully, had it covered.

Max placed his Captain America first issue comic book on the inside of the coffin. "Jace bought it for me last year, on my birthday." he told Clary with a smile. There were tears in the young boy's eyes.

Maryse placed a shirt inside of the coffin and told Clary though her tears that it was the last shirt she'd seen him wear. Alec placed stick-figure drawing inside the coffin, and Clary could only guess it was something Jace had drawn when they were young—considering that the drawing was done by crayons and definitely done by what looked like a five-year-old.

"It was Jace's favourite play." Isabelle informed Clary as she placed a copy of _Romeo and Juliet _inside the coffin. "He was always one for the classics."

Clary was the last person to place an item inside the coffin, and she pulled the drawing from her pocket and opened it, staring at it as she took a deep breath.

"You said I didn't need a drawing to remember you by." she whispered. "And you also said _you _didn't need one either. But maybe we all need a drawing to remember how brave you were for doing this for your family."

The drawing of Jace in a soldier's uniform stared blankly at her. In her mind, Clary could see Jace in his seat on the train, laughing, putting his arm around her, kissing her softly. She smiled weakly as the drawing was blurred by tears welling up in her eyes.

"Goodbye, Jace Lightwood." Clary said quietly. She placed the drawing inside, and then stepped aside to let the members of Jace's family shut the coffin.

* * *

_Jace Lightwood ran to the train station, out of breath. The backpack on his back bounced up and down as he hurried._

_He _couldn't_ miss this train. He would lose everything if he missed this train. So he ran faster._

_The train was about to shut its doors when the conductor spotted Jace. He immediately ceased the train's motion and reopened the compartment doors._

"_You made it just in time, young man." the man waiting at the compartment doors checked Jace's ticket. "There's one seat next to a pretty redhead girl. Have a nice trip."_

"_Thanks, sir." Jace nodded at the man and headed into the compartment, holding his backpack tightly. As Jace moved he saw the train man was right—there was a small redheaded girl, her forehead pressed up against the window glass, eyes closed. She was fast asleep. She was the only person on that train who had an empty seat beside her, so he sat. _

_He must have made noise, because the small redheaded girl stirred lightly. Jace hesitated. But she didn't wake up. Instead, she moved in her sleep and her temple pressed lightly against his shoulder. _

_For some reason, Jace didn't really care. She was pretty, to be honest—and she looked so calm when she slept. And of course he should be nerved that a complete stranger was pressed up against his side, but he wasn't. _

_To be honest, Jace was pretty tired himself. So he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, leaning his head to the right, resting his cheek against the top of her small, delicate head._

_And for the first time in a while, a ghost of a smile was on his mouth._

* * *

**That is the end of Trains. It was an amazing journey to be on with all of you, and I thank you all so much for reading, reviewing, following, and favouriting. It means so much to me.**

**Also, I do actually have a new Clace story up! It's called Of Dungeons and Dragons, because it involves exactly what the title implies. Go ahead and check it out if you'd like. **


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